


Revisions

by Libitina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-27
Updated: 2004-01-27
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libitina/pseuds/Libitina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tests one should perform on one's own potions to check for tampering.</p><p>Written for the hpflashficathon in response to a prompt requesting Draco/Hermione(RapistBastard!Draco in an explicit fashion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revisions

Hermione pulled out another vial of Pepper-up potion. Her hands were still a little shaky from the last dose, but the heaviness in her eyes had returned. She'd have to take off soon and get some real sleep or she'd be useless in class tomorrow. With a quick peek at the circulation desk to see whether Madame Pince would notice her drinking in the library, she quaffed it all at a go. Even though she had finished the seven feet on the ethics and mechanics of covert potion use, she had still not found time to draw up her revision table for Arithmancy. NEWTs were only fifteen weeks off.

She pulled out a blank scroll, only to have it escape her grasp and drift a few feet away. By the time she had retrieved the parchment and returned to the table, someone else was reading her scroll. It was understandable that her thoughts were a little slow after so long without sleep, but she really should have noticed another person approaching the table. She resolved to limit herself to only three nights between real sleep in the future lest she become careless and not notice something vital. After all, this was the last year, and everything depended on her marks. Even though his entire height was hidden by her essay, the long pale fingers and carefully manicured nails were easy to recognize. "Malfoy."

"You forgot a bit," he smirked.

"What? In the essay? You must be joking. There's a whole extra foot for the bibliography. Just go to bed, Malfoy."

"Really, Granger. You should be ashamed. You didn't even discuss the tests one should perform on one's own potions to check for tampering."

"But that wasn't on the assignment." Hermione shook her head to clear the buzzing that Pepper-up always caused.

Malfoy sat on the corner of her table with a smug grin. "But don't you think it should have been?"

Hermione opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. Eyes widening, she stared at the empty Pepper-up vial as she nodded dumbly in agreement.

Malfoy pushed her chair back and started to undo the buttons on her robe. She struggled to lift her hands to try to pull his away. Her arms were leaden. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. It took several seconds longer than it ought for Hermione to understand that she could not speak. Her hand fumbled clumsily for her wand before she realized that her silence also meant she would not be able to cast spells.

She tried to stay calm. She was trying to remember drinking the Pepper-up potion. Had anything tasted off? Had it looked odd? She could not remember. Why should she? She had barely looked at it. She hadn't known Malfoy would be... reaching his hand under her sweater.

"Merlin, Granger, you wear enough layers to frustrate a niffler."

Hermione knew her eyes were wide. She knew they must be getting even wider as Malfoy's hands left her stomach and started undoing his own robes instead. What was he doing? What had he put in the potion to make her so compliant? There were rumors of an Imperius potion, but she had figured that for a legend because even though she had found stories of such a potion going back to Inges Humperding in 1358, there was no actual proof that it had ever existed despite the stories of friends' sisters' cousins having suffered it. Besides, wouldn't he be telling her what to do rather than actually moving her hand with his?

And why was she letting him slip her hand into his robes? Why didn't she draw away? It could be Weak Will potion. She had seen directions for brewing that potion, but even Snape didn't even have all of the ingredients for that one. The Ministry could try to have him sacked if she could prove that he had possessed, purchased, or traded Runespoor eyes.

What about her voice, though? Why couldn't she speak? Maybe it was a potion to stop voluntary muscle movement. That would explain why his fingers surrounded hers as they tightened around... around his penis. She wasn't going to think about how hot and smooth that skin was. Nor would she notice the sheer triumphant pleasure on his face.

She would just keep up this rhythm and not think about it while she tried to figure out how one could disguise the taste of a Soul-usurping potion. If it were that potion, she would have to drink the antidote within four hours of the original dose. That is, if she could find all the ingredients. Moste Potente Potions had said it would take a potions master about two hours to prepare the antidote, and it had recommended making the counter potion in tandem so that the ingredients would be of equal freshness and similar preparation. What if she were not skilled enough? Well, she certainly should be, else she didn't deserve to be taking the NEWTs, after all. But what if she didn't have enough time? How long had she been here with Malfoy's penis in her hand listening to him making moans that were so quiet they sounded more like gasps? Just what would you call them, she mused, before wrenching her attention back to more pertinent questions. It would be easier if he would just tell her the answer. But how would she even be able to ask him? What did he want from her?

She reached for the desk with her free hand. She needed a quill. She needed to write. She needed to stab the point into Malfoy's neck, but she knew that a potion this powerful wouldn't let her. She needed. She reached. She pressed closer to Malfoy and managed to push him against the edge of the desk. Unable to see past him, she scrabbled blindly for the quill, but she felt his hips fighting her and pushing back, trying to keep her away.

She barely heard him gasping her name in shattered tones. The hot fluid spilling onto her fist was a surprise. So, too, was Malfoy's hand on her shoulder, easing her back into the chair; his tongue, smugly cleaning her hand, and the mouth behind it still breathless were also... curious.

When Malfoy moved away, Hermione could finally lean forward enough to reach the quill. He was wiping his own hand on her robes. She tried to ask. No. Write. She tried to write. The letters were awkward and sloppy, but she did manage to get her fingers to cooperate. "What was in the potion?"

Malfoy caressed her fingers possessively as he claimed the quill. "Silencing potion and a mild muscle relaxant." He kissed her open mouth and told her, "You could have left at any time."

Then he raised an eyebrow. "But you didn't," he said, and kissed her again, quickly; and before she could muster up enough will to move, he had gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this story was extremely clever when I wrote it. I am now not as pleased with this trope.


End file.
